The REIGN: Out of Tribulation

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  In a small, confidential meeting with a Jerusalem representative for their area, Rodney, along with Robert Petersen from Kansas and Claire Lehmann from Missouri, heard news of the resistance movement. These three state guard commanders agreed to receive the report from the immortals, in spite of significant opposition within the government to relying on intelligence from Jerusalem. Rodney welcomed the working relationship with Robert and Claire and respectfully passed up an offer from the Illinois and Wisconsin commanders for a similar meeting, knowing their suspicion of Jerusalem. Cooperation with such antagonists to the throne seemed a waste of time to Rodney, the pragmatic father and carpenter. He would have to play politics with those other commanders and he had no time for that game.

  “Many of these people have moved out of your states and into the mountains to the west and north,” said the dark-haired, and stern-looking, woman who held a high place in Jerusalem’s governance over North America. She smiled primly, as if tired of propping up that stern exterior. She sought to reassure the concerned mortals. She carefully looked each of them in the eyes, as they sat with her around a table in the sanctuary of an abandoned church.

  Crows cawed from somewhere near the church, distracting Rodney for a moment. He struggled more with concern for his little farm and family, than concern for the whereabouts, and activities, of the persistent opponents of the Reign. Robert and Claire seemed more alarmed by the swelling stream of defectors from their states.

  “I do know of some who’ve taken up hiding in the Flint Hills, in our state,” Robert said. “But we haven’t been able to figure out whether they’re there to stay, or just on their way to Colorado and New Mexico.”

  “We are confident that they will not be able to sustain a separate social structure there, so close to cooperative towns and with so little cover,” the woman from Jerusalem said. She had introduced herself as Naomi. To Rodney she seemed both exotic and familiar, like a very old friend who had gone off to lands far away and returned profoundly changed. She seemed to wear common clothing as if it were a costume. Rodney suspected that she had lived and died far away from his Midwestern home, but he felt far too intimidated by her to ask such personal questions.

  Claire asked, “Are you tracking them, keeping an eye on them and monitoring their activities?”

  Naomi nodded and seemed to look into Claire’s anxious soul when she said, “We know where they are and what they are up to. We are not concerned about what they will do to others. They seem to realize their limitations in that direction. We are, on the other hand, concerned for what they are doing to themselves, cutting themselves off from the only true and pure King the world has ever known.”

  This stimulated Rodney’s curiosity. “What will happen to them if they stay on this path?” he asked, thinking of Chester and a few others that he assumed had disappeared along with him.

  “They have chosen rebellion and with that they have chosen the consequences of rebellion,” Naomi said, a note of sadness in her voice.

  With other immortals that he knew, Rodney might have pressed for a more precise and illuminating answer, but Naomi seemed determined to limit the information she provided the mortals.

  The three regional commanders met over dinner that evening, all of them interested in keeping their time away from home short. Robert farmed sunflowers in northern Kansas and wanted to get back as soon as possible. His sunbaked face and light blue eyes reflected the sandstone and sky of his native country. A dash of dark hair topped his head, surrounded by short-cropped gray on back and sides.

  Claire seemed constantly nervous, yet composed and in control, her round face focused on dark brown eyes under short blonde bangs. Like Rodney, his counterparts had fought in the resistance and had led troops in various circumstances, both regular military and militia. Also like Rodney, they had come to trust the immortals, and their King, relying on their information, as well as their support and protection.

  “I can only try to discourage others from following the exiles,” Rodney said, as he finished his supper and wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin. “I just don’t see the defectors as a security threat to us, after what Naomi said, along with what I’ve seen.”

  Claire sipped red wine and paused thoughtfully. “I’m trying to remember the last time we heard of any kind of threat from opponents to Jerusalem. It’s been at least a year, I would say.”

  Robert nodded and chimed in. “I think it’s the same for us. I have the impression that they simply learned that resistance would get them nothing and they figured that disappearing into the wilderness was their only remaining option.”

  “I guess I can understand that, if they’re really angry at the King, over the loss of their children, or even out of deep rooted desire for freedom,” Rodney said.

  Robert and Claire both nodded. One could hardly imagine a survivor of the resistance to the Dictator who held no sympathy for people wanting to escape tyranny, even at high cost. In the end, the three regional commanders agreed to continue to share information, but to take no immediate action, save warning anyone they could against leaving the peace and protection of the Reign.

  Two days after leaving home, Rodney drove back up the driveway to the farmhouse in his newest vehicle, a compact electric car with seating for two. He, Emma and Daniel each planned to drive it on trips for one or two. They saved the compressed air van for Rodney’s work and the sedan for carrying the whole family.

  Rodney enjoyed nothing more than returning home to find everything as he had left it, so he was annoyed to find a van marked “IowaNet News,” parked in front of the house. The sun stood straight above the house, allowing for only a few slim shadows, aside from the scattered clouds sailing overhead. No one seemed to be in the van when Rodney peeked in, squinting in the bright sun to see in the dark vehicle. The front door of the house swung open, with its usual squeaky welcome, and Daniel stepped out. Only then, Rodney remembered that it was Saturday, so Daniel was home in the middle of the day.

  “Are we in trouble?” Rodney asked.

  Daniel shrugged. “They want to talk to you about the National Guard and people dropping out of sight to go live in the mountains.”

  A medium sized man with a big head and perfect hair, emerged from the house, followed by a woman carrying a compact TV camera.

  “Captain Stippleman, we’d like to ask you a few questions,” the reporter said. “My name is Jay Barnum; this is my camera operator, Ashley Clark. Do you have a moment?”

  Rodney nodded. “Just for a moment, if you don’t mind, I just finished a long drive and want to see my family.”

  “Of course,” the reporter said. “You’re returning from Kansas City, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Rodney tried to resist sizing up the reporter with a head to toe inspection, knowing he was on camera.

  For a few minutes, he batted back basic questions about his meeting. Then the reporter asked, “So what do you plan on doing about the hundreds of people from the area, who are escaping to unpopulated places to start their own underground communities?”

  “I don’t know of ‘hundreds of people’ from this area who are opting out of the new government, but I’m aware of a few. There’s nothing we need to do about it. They’re free to go where they wish. They’re not harming anyone, that I know of,” he said.

  “Don’t you think they might be gathering to plan attacks on collaborators with Jerusalem, such as the one on the opening congress last year?” Mr. Barnum asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I doubt that’s their plan,” Rodney said.

  “Have you gotten intelligence from the immortals on that question?”

  “As usual, it’s best for us not to discuss our sources of intelligence, in order to protect the sources and keep our conduits open.”

  Daniel marveled at the way Rodney dodged that question, just like a politician.

  Jay Barnum attempted a few more times to establish the relationship between the National Guard and the immortals, but
received no more clarity from Rodney than that first answer. Finally, Rodney tired of the banter.

  “Okay, now let me go see my family. I’ve answered your questions. That’s all you’re gonna get,” he said, with a polite smile.

  The reporter thanked Rodney and climbed into his van, the camera operator taking the drivers’ seat. Glancing over his shoulder briefly, to watch them leave, Rodney patted Daniel on the back.

  “Your mother inside?” Rodney asked.

  “Yep, she was giving Joshua a bath when the reporters showed up just ahead of you.”

  Emma met them in the kitchen, Joshua propped on her hip and leaning against her collarbone. Rodney hugged them both and gave each a kiss. They talked about the trip, and about the reporters, and then Rodney had to make some calls to check on his business and the Guard.

  Though Rodney had made nothing of it, he had been promoted to the rank of Colonel when he took charge of the Iowa National Guard. He didn’t correct the reporter for calling him “Captain.” One of his calls, however, was to one of the three Captains that worked under him in The Guard. Tim Granger was the youngest of that second tier of officers in Iowa. Rodney saw Captain Granger as a bit too gung-ho and aggressive, perhaps to compensate for missing much of the combat during the war against the Dictator.

  After listening to Rodney’s description of the conversation in Kansas City, including a brief description of the role of Naomi, whom he didn’t name, Captain Granger stepped in. “That all sounds nice, Sir, but we know where this uprising starts, so shouldn’t we be keeping our own eyes on the recruiting ground for the rebels?”

  “Recruiting ground?”

  “Yes, Sir. Most of these people are folks that lost their children to the immortals. I think we should infiltrate some of the support groups for parents who lost kids and watch for signs of radicalism,” explained the Captain, speaking rapidly with no sign of taking a breath.

  Rodney, on the other hand, took one long breath before answering. “No, Captain. We will not infiltrate support groups for people who’ve lost their children. That’s well outside our mandate as National Guard. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir,” the Captain said dutifully.

  After that call, Rodney needed to relax and escape the overhanging duties that pulled him from his family. He stepped into the living room, where Emma sat nursing Joshua. “What do you say, I cook us a quick supper and I call Steve to see if he and Marney are watching Jerusalem worship tonight?”

  Emma smiled and nodded. “Sounds good. But not too late?”

  “Of course, we have some catching up to do.”

  Daniel had promised to eat dinner with Tina and her mom, so he excused himself, telling Rodney that it was good to have him back, before skipping out the door and starting his scooter.

  After his eggs and hash browns supper, Rodney carried Joshua to the car in the baby carrier and Emma followed a moment later. On the drive in to town, Emma tried to tune in one of the new radio stations in the area, finding one from Des Moines that played old music from well before the war. Rodney and Emma sang along to one of the songs and reminisced silently during two others.

  Steve had sounded pleased that Rodney and Emma wanted to join them to watch the Jerusalem worshippers. Immediately, when Rodney saw Marney he could tell that she had risen above her depression and anxiety. She seemed more at peace than he had ever seen and he could sense the joy that this stoked in Steve.

  “Oh, look at him,” Marney said, peering into Joshua’s carrier, where he sat wide-awake, craning his nascent neck to discover his surroundings. He cooed back at Marney.

  The 3D video and surround sound system that Rodney and Daniel had built, and Steve had tweaked ever since, already showed the mass of dancers and singers in Jerusalem when the guests arrived, but the volume had been turned low.

  “How do you think he’ll take this?” Steve asked, looking at Joshua and motioning toward the video projection.

  Emma and Rodney both looked at Joshua, who had spotted the projected people and was staring at them, transfixed.

  “He’ll get overwhelmed after a bit and conk out,” Rodney said. “You can turn the volume up a bit, he won’t mind, and it won’t hurt him any.”

  When Steve doubled the volume, Joshua tracked the dancers with his dark blue eyes and started waving his hands, as if conducting an orchestra. The adults all laughed at this, but soon became as captivated as Joshua with the movement of the worshippers and the complexity of the songs they sang.

  At times, the sound resembled the roar of a crowd at a sports event, yet a melody always emerged from that roar, and the rhythm of the stomping feet and thumping chests called to mind both a marching band and a rock-and-roll drummer. The feed Steve was streaming broadcast from nearer the throne than any Rodney had seen before; he could see the intense glow from the throne. That sight awoke memories of his visit to that sacred city. He could feel his pulse racing and his knees growing unstable, he sat quickly on the couch to prevent falling down. Emma, who held Joshua’s carrier, set it down and took the boy in her arms, holding him so he could see the projection but still feel her wrapped around him. She had never seen him so content and enraptured, even more so than when he met Socks and got a big lick in the face.

  Just as they were all settling into the unselfconscious absorption familiar to Jerusalem watchers, someone knocked briskly at the door. After a second of hesitation, characteristic of survivors of the war, as well as watchers of the worship, Steve got up and answered the door.

  Daniel stepped into the living room, hesitated a moment, distracted by two dancers and a piercing song on the video, then said, “Rodney you gotta see what they did with your interview. It was on the IowaNet broadcast.”

  Rodney descended from his Jerusalem high and looked blankly at Daniel. Then he understood what his stepson was saying and looked at Steve. Curious what this was about, Steve opened a small computer window on the side of the projection and spoke into a microphone by the couch, “IowaNet News.” That organization’s Web site appeared in the corner of the Jerusalem stream. Daniel instructed Steve where to find the video of Rodney and all eyes turned toward that window, as Steven expanded it to a quarter of the projection and turned the worship volume down.

  Jay Barnum introduced his interview, explaining who Rodney was and where he had been the past two days, then they showed footage of the interview on their driveway. Someone who wasn’t there could not have noticed, but the pairing of Rodney’s answers with questions from Jay Barnum had been significantly altered. The editing made Rodney look as if he was hiding something, perhaps some kind of conspiratorial involvement with the immortals.

  When the clip ended and Jay Barnum finished his incriminating remarks, Steve muted the whole computer. Everyone sat silent for a moment, except Joshua, who expressed a strong opinion about turning down the sound.

  Daniel spoke first. “So typical, that he would try to stir up trouble, just so he has some kind of news story.”

  For Rodney, at that point, the tilted news coverage reminded him of the propaganda purveyed by the Dictator and it testified of the constancy of human nature. Beyond such abstract thoughts, he disregarded the story as an unfortunate mistake made by another person, which would have no real impact on his life.

  That night at Steve and Marney’s ended early, with little joy from the Jerusalem video feed. All three of the other adults had inhaled a dank and foreboding wind, when they watched that news report, and Rodney was tired from his trip.

  Not until the next evening did Rodney give any serious thought to the news coverage again. He had been busy all day helping Ben with repairing a collapsed stairway in an old farmhouse east of town. When he arrived back home in time for supper, Emma noted obliquely that she had noticed a couple of big electric motorcycle pass the farm twice. Her point in mentioning this grew out of her relief that Daniel wasn’t riding his scooter so much since his accident and gratitude that he didn’t have such a big and dangerous two-wheeler.
>
  After supper, the air began to cool from the comforting summer warmth of afternoon to the caressing breezes of evening. Rodney and Emma sat with Joshua on the porch, watching the trees and shrubs in front of them adopt the color of the sunset behind them. When orange had surrendered to purple and blue, and the last light of day hung for just a moment, Rodney stiffened in his chair. He handed Joshua over to Emma and stood up.

  He had seen what looked like a human form standing in the tall grass by the fence along the road. When he stood up his impression was confirmed, as that form quickly slipped away. He urged Emma to lock herself in the house and he went to the barn to collect an axe handle. He walked down the drive and found the place by the road where a man had stood in the grass and had quickly escaped to some waiting vehicle.

  Even then, he didn’t connect this strange occurrence to the news story. Not until he mentioned it to Daniel before bed, did he wonder if the conspiratorial report had inspired some kind of curiosity, or even worse.

  In town the next morning, Rodney talked to Warren Kline, knowing that if the roles had been reversed he, as Sheriff, would have liked to know about the suspicious observer. Warren had not seen the broadcast, but looked it up to try to judge how inflammatory it might seem and whom it might offend. Rodney stood by, his arms crossed over his chest, as Warren watched the clip on his office computer.

  When the reporter signed off, Warren said, “I could see how that might stir up some of those conspiracy-minded folks who’re headin’ for the hills. I had one of ‘em in here the other day complaining that they thought the immortals were spying on his group,” he added. “I told him that they had better things to do. But you know he didn’t buy that.”